


4

by PineTrain



Series: Pinecest Trick-or-Treat 2017 [4]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Wendip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 17:58:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12462921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PineTrain/pseuds/PineTrain





	4

@noneatnonedotcom asked for a sweet and spicy treat

* * *

As she slowly drifts into consciousness, the first thing Wendy notices is the coarse texture pressing into her cheek. While not entirely pleasant, there’s something about it that helps her foggy mind know she's happy to feel it. As the fog clears, she notices the heat radiating beneath it, the soft skin between her and hard muscles, the calm and consistent breaths that gently lift and lower her face as they come and go. It’s his chest hair, she realizes.

Memories of a party last night seep in slowly. It was a welcoming back for victorious friends from some paranormal mission she only half understood. Her mood at the start had been poor, irritation at being left behind scratching around inside her. Not because she carried any particular interest in the nature of the mission, but because she didn't like the thought that they had been in danger and she could do nothing to help.

She provided a few “haha, but really…” comments here and there to let them know how she felt and she accepted the liberally given apologies. Wendy wanted to ensure that she would be there the next time and, satisfied that would be the case, she turned her attention back to congratulating them for their success, in particular, her protege of sorts, Dipper.

Years ago she would have expected Mabel to fill the niche, but time makes fools of us all. While his sister had found her own separate way, Dipper had drifted more and more towards Wendy’s, so it was a natural thing for her to help him along. A word here, a demonstration there, and soon enough he had all the agility and strength one might expect of a Corduroy, but certainly not the noodle-boy of yesteryear.

As she continues listening to him breathe, she smiles a bit at the inevitability of it all. Something so obvious in retrospect, but somehow so invisible at the time. Every change that led to who he was now so small she couldn't possibly have spotted them, and yet the end result showing the whole as greater than the sum of the parts.

He had chuckled when he apologized to her in a way somehow both reminiscent of his awkward past, but also showing he knew she wasn’t truly angry. It had given her pause, made her think, made her step back and see who he was now instead of who he had been. While the boy was still there in some small part, he was also someone who she’d been with for so long.

It wasn't as though the fact he had seen that she wasn't angry was something new, it was just what started her thoughts along at that moment. He really did know her, better than anyone. How could he not, he'd been at her side learning from her for years. Not just her family’s tricks as her apprentice, but also her as a person. She could see it in his eyes as he looked at her, that he saw her as Wendy Corduroy, the woman.

As the night went on, as they talked, as they drank, she found that he truly did see her that way. As a woman. Not just her for her, but her as someone he desired. He had since he was that little technically-not-a-teen boy. He’d just been waiting for her to catch up. For her to see him as the man he had become. To see him not just for him, but as someone she desired.

They'd wandered into a stray hallway at some point and she reached up and hooked her hand into his collar. The way she pulled his lips down to hers showing not just that she wanted him, but why she did. That she had seen his growth. And when his powerful arms wrapped around her, she only regretted that she hadn't seen it sooner.

The night was a mass of wonderful moments. How they barely managed to stumble up the stairs to a room for privacy, lips locked the entire time. How she had reached down and caught his knees under her arm, carrying him over the threshold despite his greater weight. How they had wrestled on the bed in an unspoken battle to see who would be on top their first time (and how she had let him win).

His teeth on her neck. His hand lifting her ass. His cock inside her. Her world was him and nothing else as she gave herself to him, showed that she saw the man he had become, that she wanted. And when he was spent, she let him rest until he had recovered, and then she took him, showed him the reality of the woman he had always wanted, moaning and writhing atop him until they collapsed together in exhaustion.

It was a good night, she thinks, but she's trying to tamper down how she really wants to describe it. “Great,” “Amazing,” “Wonderful.” An unending plethora of adjectives more accurate than “good” pass through her mind, but she likes the simplicity of the word. It gives a sense of detachment, something a teen would find “cool.”

Wendy has a feeling he’ll get the joke when she says it after he wakes up. An obscure, convoluted reference to events long ago, or, in other words, something right up his alley. She smiles faintly, wondering if that sort of thing would reawaken his preteen, paranoid mind, and force her to make it more clear that she wanted this to continue. It wouldn't necessarily be a bad reaction, since she's more than willing for a repeat performance of last night’s events.


End file.
